


my head begs not to be so full

by B0opie



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Birds, Bittersweet Ending, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Gen, Ghost Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, Pets, beta read by a cutie ;), it's not sad but it's not happy either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29758032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B0opie/pseuds/B0opie
Summary: He sits on a cliff, hanging his feet off the edge as the wind blew, swaying the vibrant green grass behind him.Dream thinks.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96





	my head begs not to be so full

**Author's Note:**

> yes im gonna try to make u guys feel sympathy for dream. yes im a dream apologist. what abt it.  
> twitter is @b0opie :] as always, do not share w cc’s, or repost my work anywhere or claim it as yours  
> BETA READ BY @MBIKMB on twitter !! big thanks :]

Dream stares at the sky, not having to worry about the sun hurting his eyes as he couldn’t feel the burn it would have given him if he was alive.

The weather was fairly nice - the sun stood high in the sky, and there was light wind flying in the air. It blew the trees behind him, made the leaves rustle a bit.

He sits on a cliff, hanging his feet off the edge as the wind blew, swaying the vibrant green grass behind him. He imagines the grass would feel soft but also be a bit sticky. He doesn’t remember what things feel like anymore, so he just guesses now. 

His ghost parrot sat on his shoulder, nuzzling at his neck. Although he couldn’t feel the soft, sleek feathers, it made a warm feeling swirl in his chest. 

He imagined the warmth as a glowing orange, moving like fire as it grows, keeping the feelings of contentedness in his chest. 

The bird is the only one that’s kind to him, which is quite sad, but he accepts the kindness the parrot gives him gratefully. 

Back when he was in the prison, he woke up to Stripes right next to him, staring at him with those beady eyes. 

And they became best friends immediately. 

He pets Stripes’ head, and the parrot responds by burrowing further into his neck. As Stripes cuddled him, he studied the bird, the parrot looking very peaceful compared to him. He stared at Stripes’ feathers, the interesting pattern distracting him.

Stripes had three main colors on his feathers; red, yellow, and blue. His feathers were smooth due to being a ghost, therefore his feathers didn’t get dirty or get scruffed. The parrot misses cleaning his feathers, and he still often does so out of habit.

Dream smiles to himself, thinking about his bird’s little quirks.

Dream turns his head to look back at the clear blue sky, and he thinks that when the moon replaces the sun, he would sit on this very cliff and do the same thing.

Dream gets lost in his mind as the wind whistles.

His thoughts lead him back to when he first woke up, back in the prison. He had just died, and he knew because when he turned his head he saw his cold corpse on the ground. It looked horrible, with ghostly pale skin. 

After a close inspection, he found even more.. details about his dead body. 

It looked like he hadn’t eaten in a very long time, his ribs were showing through the prison uniform, he had matted greasy hair and his eyes were red and bloodshot, which he’s pretty sure was from crying. His body’s knuckles were split and bleeding, due to how often he’d bang them on the obsidian walls of his cell. 

When he looked around the cell there were mounds of rotten, molded potatoes pilling up on the ground. Going through the chests he found many books, some thanking people for visiting and others were highly disturbing. 

The only info he got from the books is that everyone hated his alive self and that he was sorry. Proving his point, he found a book that had sorry repeatedly on all of the pages, and on the last page, there were words written in blood. They read: ‘IT WASN’T MY FAULT, WHY DIDN’T THEY NOTICE, ~~IT WAS THE DRE~~ ’. The last few words were crossed out, so much so he could barely read it.

He placed the book back into the chest, and he had an awful disturbing feeling in his chest about it. It felt like a black hole was consuming his body, destroying everything in its path.

The books, this cell, it all seemed so… wrong. 

Shaking off the feeling, he eventually floated through the prison until he reached outside. 

Once he was outside, he pondered on how he could touch those books, as they weren’t created in the ghost realm. Therefore, he must have had some special attachment to it.

He wandered around the SMP after that and tried to find some people, he really did. But once they knew who he was, they either outright ignored him or yelled at him for no particular reason. It made him so sad that everyone ignored him, he didn’t even know what he did. He was angry at them too, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. 

A new feeling arrives in his chest, he knows what the feelings look like too… negativity being a thunderstorm, the rain pounding in his body, his veins. He feels the clouds build up, and up, and up. So much so that now he can physically feel the fullness in his chest. He knows they’re not really there, but it doesn’t stop the feeling.

He knows they blame him for his alive-selfs actions, even though he’s dead now. It doesn’t make sense. They know he can’t remember anything, so why do they still hate him? He knows that if his alive self did something to hurt them, they would avoid him, but they won’t even let him know what he did.

All he knows from when he was alive is the feeling of heartbreak, loneliness. That he was dying alone. That no one cared. He knows he probably deserved it, but that doesn’t stop him from hurting. 

It was like lightning, and it stung, burning his chest.

He just wishes people would treat him the same way they would treat Ghostbur: he doesn’t remember anything, yet people talk to him normally, and through what he’s heard through eavesdropping, Ghostbur was also a bad person when he was alive. He doesn’t get it.

What makes him so different from the other ghost?

There’s a feeling in his chest, and it looks like a green kind of gas, swirling and moving about. He doesn’t understand what this feeling is. 

—

He shakes his head, ridding his head of the thoughts, and decides to get up, and stretches out of habit. He realized how long he was here and decided to revisit some places. 

He floats through the SMP with Stripes on his shoulder as always, and he eventually gets to the community house. He hadn’t been here yet, but he figured now was a good time since no one was around today, meaning he could roam freely without having to worry about getting berated. 

The building had nice maroon bricks, and he noticed it had stone to compliment it. There were huge pots filled with flowers outside the window, majority being daisies and red roses. There were lanterns near the door and windows, not showing their brightness due to it being daytime. 

He walks down the small bridge above the water to get to the door, he hears the water moving, the small waves crashing into each other. The fish were so colorful, and so was their home. It looked so pretty, and fairly relaxing. He listens to the environment as his parrot chirps on his shoulder.

Once he gets inside the building itself, he feels a strong kind of emotion attached to it. The building enveloped him like a warm hug, arms wrapping around him in greeting.

There were so many emotions tied to this building, almost too many. His chest was a ball of many colors, all blending and swirling into each other.

He feels like something really special started here, but of course, he's not allowed to know. He wishes every day that someone would answer his questions. He hates it.

Dream looks around the place, noticing chests lining a wall. He walks towards them and opens a few, finding all kinds of things in them, books, food, ores, etc. He feels particularly sad that he can’t bring the clean, new books with him, but he guesses that’s what happens when you phase through everything. He loves writing so much, it makes his brain calm, negative thoughts nowhere to be found, his chest as bright and yellow as the sun.

He doesn’t know why he’s so attached to putting ink on paper and twisting them together until they become words and sentences, constructing stories that only his eyes will see. He knows when he was alive he enjoyed writing too, maybe that’s why. He did take a few of the unused books from the chest in the prison, so whenever he has nothing to do he writes in those.

He turns his head to look at his bird, putting his fingers under its claws and lifting him onto the chests so the parrot could freely roam. Apparently, his bird can touch physical things most of the time, which makes him incredibly jealous.

He never worries about his bird leaving as he always comes back.

Once he deems himself finished with exploring the first floor, he floats up the stairs and makes it up to the 2nd floor.

He looks out into the SMP, looking at all the beautiful buildings, trees, and the general area around him. He believes that all the people are so nice, just not to him. 

—

Dream eventually went back to the 1st floor, and his bird landed back onto his shoulder.

He’s wandering through the SMP again, he decides to pick the big crater to sit by. He sits down, well, floats really, really close to the ground, and relaxes. He looks down at the crater, wondering what it was and how it came to be.

He hears the distant noise of a voice, and he sits up rigidly, turning to see who it was.

George.

His chest pulses with dark clouds, not yet raining. They were very full, and the clouds proceeded to push again at his chest to where he could feel it.

His left ear began to tingle when George got closer. 

They both stared at each other, George being very intimidating when he’s ‘sitting’ and he’s standing over him.

They stare for a long moment, until George breaks it with a huff, turning his body to face away from him.

“You know, no one here likes you, and, aren’t you tired of being yelled at, ignored? Just leave already, I’m so tired of hearing the yelling whenever you’re near.”

Dream gulps, and quietly replies, “Okay.”

No one had told him to straight-up leave until now, but he supposes George is right. So he slowly gets up and floats away. As he does so, the feeling of regret builds bigger in his chest, along with sadness. He knows it’s deserved, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Dream decides that maybe he should adventure outside the SMP lands as he knew there were many biomes he could visit.

Dream glances back, seeing the figure of George get smaller and smaller.


End file.
